


carry this heavy crown

by traitorhero



Category: Dishonored (Video Game), Dishonored 2 - Fandom
Genre: Gen, POV Multiple, Speculation, but that's months from now so I don't feel bad, expect this to be highly AU when the game comes out, speculation for Dishonored 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4611741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traitorhero/pseuds/traitorhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reign of an Empress is never set in stone. </p><p>Betrayed, with allies she doesn't know if she can trust, Emily Kaldwin finds herself at the crossroads of the world, with the ability to change everything.</p><p> </p><p>  <i> (Dishonored 2 Speculation, highly AU)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deposed

They had been sitting in the harbor for almost an hour. While she could commend the harbormaster for his attention to detail, Emily wished that this could be done and that she could step off the boat for the first time in almost a week. It wasn’t her first time visiting Serkonos, the first being two years after her coronation when the last of the Rat Plague had been cleared from Dunwall. Even now, fifteen years later, they were required to carry certification that no one had been found sick, along with the other papers that proved that she was who she said she was.

As if she could lie about it. There had been a few people who had come forward before her coronation claiming that they held the true heir of the Empire, and that the girl that was to sit the throne was an imposter. Most of them had been taken care of quietly, not even brought to the younger Emily’s attention. Only one had required testimony before Parliament, and it had quickly shown that the claimant was the true imposter. Corvo had, at her insistence, made sure that the girl and her mother were taken care of, well outside of the limits of Dunwall.

Corvo cleared his throat, just loud enough for her to hear him. Emily rolled her eyes and continued to peer over the railing. The waters of Karnaca were clearer than those of Dunwall, even this close to the city. She had expected them to be fouled with refuse, but either the fish took care of it, or the people dumped their waste elsewhere. Over the hour she had been waiting, the fish she had seen had changed. The less bright colored fish swam in the shadow of her ship while the others made for sunlit waters.

No doubt Sokolov or Pietro would have indulged her and told her the reason behind their fleeing to the more sunlit waters, but they had been left behind in Dunwall. No doubt by now the two had come up with something to thrill her when she returned. Or they would blow up the Academy. Both were a possibility, and it had been a few years since the last explosion. Perhaps the aristocracy would be more forgiving when she undoubtedly had to raise their taxes to pay for the repairs.

“Stop looking at me like that, Corvo,” Emily said, shooting a glance over her shoulder at her Lord Protector.

A few of the nobility had balked at the choice she had made to keep Corvo as her Lord Protector, even though he had saved her when she was a little girl. Now a few years into his fifties, some were even throwing hints that Emily should look for his successor. Corvo had not made any mention of the rumors, and until he asked, she saw no reason for him to leave her service. After all, he had more than a few abilities that other bodyguards would lack.

“I would prefer if you wouldn’t stand where an assassin would have an easy shot, Your Majesty.”

Emily winced internally. While his words lacked anything that could be taken as an admonishment, she knew it for what it was. While their appearance hadn’t been formally announced, it wouldn’t take long for someone on the docks to spread the news across the city. And if there were any of her enemies, small as they were, in the city, they could use the fact that she was in unfamiliar territory to their advantage.

“I’m certain Duke Theodanis would have let us know if any Serkonan nationalists wanted me dead,” Emily said. She stood up and straightened her salt stained jacket, and moved to stand beside him. If anyone had been paying attention to them, it would have seemed like it was her decision to move, rather than her taking the suggestion of her Lord Protector.  

“There are always some that slip notice,” Corvo said. He looked as if he was going to say more, but closed his mouth and tugged at his gloves instead.

“With how pleased the people were to have a Serkonan Lord Protector?” she replied. “Not to mention one of the youngest men to win the Blade Verbena. I’d say you’re more of a hero to them than I am.”

“You are their Empress.”

“And you’re the tale mothers tell to their children as someone to aspire to be,” Emily said. “An empress is nothing compared to a legend.”

“Be that as it may,” Corvo said, “you still have enemies.”

Emily sighed, but inclined her head in acknowledgement. “And I have you to protect me,” she said.

“Always,” he replied, the same expression mirrored on his face. “But you are correct. There haven’t been any reports that would warrant a close guard of your person.”

“You’re just worried.”

The lines around his mouth grew tight for a split moment, long enough for her to catch it. Before he could respond, the captain of the ship, whom she had come to know as Collins, strode towards them, before stopping a respectful distance away. He gave Emily a deep bow, more due to the fact that they were in port than any real need for the gesture. The papers Corvo had given him were extended back to her Lord Protector, who tucked them inside his jacket.

“You may go ashore at your leisure, Your Majesty,” Collins said. “The harbormaster of Karnaca gives you his warm regards, but is unable to greet you personally.” A small smile, as if he was letting them in on a secret, came across his face. “The man had gravy down the front of him. I imagine he didn’t feel up to meeting royalty.”

“As if we are in much better state,” Emily said with a smirk.

Emily reached into a pocket on her coat and pulled out a pouch of coins, tossing it to Collins. She had asked Corvo what the proper amount would be the night before, placing the coins into the linen pouch by candlelight. He had given the gift last time, to keep up the idea that the young Empress had no idea what the sailors would get up to in their shore leave. The amount would be enough to buy the men a night of comfort, or as bonus wages for those with families back in Dunwall.

“Many thanks, Ma’am,” Collins said, giving her another short bow. “My men and I will stay in port at your leisure.”

“The barracks should make room for you,” Corvo said.

Collins started, obviously forgetting that the Lord Protector was present. Behind the mask that she presented, Emily giggled. Corvo easily faded into the background, no matter where they seemed to go. A few times she had caught him smirking after one or another noble walked away quickly rather than continue the conversation.

“Of course,” Collins said, regaining his demeanor. “I’ll let the men know.”

He bowed again and walked away. Emily turned her head slightly towards Corvo, catching the hint of a grin on his features.

“You’re incorrigible,” she told him. Corvo lifted a shoulder slightly, before letting it fall down. Only the manners instilled in her by Callista and her other governess’ stopped Emily from rolling her eyes.

“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re referring to, Ma’am.”

“Of course not,” Emily muttered out of the corner of her mouth. The tilt of Corvo’s lips let her know that he caught her words. She let her own enjoyment of the joke played on the captain shine through in a similar smirk, striding towards the gangplank. The sailors bowed or tipped their hats to her as she passed.

“Your trunks should already be offloaded,” Corvo said as they walked towards the exit of the harbor. “If we need another coach to carry them, we can order one.”

“That would require us to have one in the first place,” Emily replied. “Or to need it.” Emily stopped by the entrance of the port, seeing a few of the sailors loading the back of a coach with her trunks. “You told Collins to order a coach when he was talking to the harbormaster.”

“It seemed the most prudent action,” he replied. “A better solution than waiting for one to come to us.”

“I suppose,” she agreed, letting a hint of her annoyance creep into her voice.

Corvo sighed. “This isn’t Dunwall, Emily,” he said, dropping the polite address he had used around the sailors. “Walking around without a proper guard-”

“Isn’t safe, I understand. It was just a thought,” she said with a small shake of her head.

“We have three months,” Corvo told her gently. “There will be plenty of time to wander around Karnaca. Safely.”

“Surely you could navigate us,” she said as he helped her into the coach. “You were born here.”

“That was over fifty years ago,” Corvo reminded her as he entered on the opposite side. “And the few times I’ve been back have been served as Royal Protector. Things have surely changed since then.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. She frowned and stared out of the glass window of the coach. In the reflection she saw him look at her strangely. “You haven’t been home in over twenty years, and you have to deal with my politics instead of enjoying yourself.”

“I don’t regret leaving for Dunwall,” Corvo said, rapping on the ceiling of the coach. “And Dunwall offered me more than staying in Karnaca ever could.”

Emily huffed in amusement as the coach jerked into motion. As they turned out of the harbor and into the more populated areas of the city, the coach got a few strange looks. The eyes of the few people who looked closely at them widened, with a few sweeping into bows as they passed.

“I’m glad we didn’t announce my arrival,” Emily said.

Corvo grunted in reply, his eyes closed. While some may have thought him taking a nap, Emily knew if she took the glove off his left hand the Mark would be glowing gold. Secure in the knowledge that he could intercept any immediate dangers, she let herself look out the window. As they passed a market, more people looked at them, except for a few that seemed more concerned with what they were buying than a passing coach. Corvo shifted slightly, his hand tensing in his glove, before relaxing again.

By the time they reached her residence Emily was sure that her arrival had been heralded to the four corners of Karnaca, if not all of Serkonos. Corvo exited the coach and came around to help her out. She took his hand and stepping onto the cobblestone that made up the drive to her estate. The house itself showed signs of being recently painted, the white of the eaves almost sparkling in the sunlight. As she moved to enter, Corvo placed a lightly restraining hand on her arm.

“Let me check the house first, please,” he said.

Emily sighed and crossed her arms. “I thought the entire point of hiding my arrival was so that no assassins would be in wait when we got here.”

“Then for my own peace of mind?” Corvo asked. Emily nodded her acceptance, watching as he walked up the steps of the estate. As soon as he slipped inside the door, she followed, her steps light on the stairs. Corvo gave her a disapproving look when she opened the door and entered.

“And this from the man who said an assassin could take a shot if I was standing out in the open,” she mocked him gently.

“Emily,” he said, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Corvo,” she responded the same annoyed tone. “I haven’t had a bath without some measure of saltwater in it for almost a week. And if I let you do all the checks you want, I’ll have to go to see the Duke with salt stains in my hair.”

“Excuse me, the house isn’t open-”

The rest of what the maid was going to say was cut off in a squeak when Corvo turned towards her. She looked between Emily and Corvo, drawing the correct conclusion when she dropped into a bow. The towels in her arms fell to the floor.

“There’s no harm done,” Emily said, gesturing for Corvo to help the maid pick up the towels. “If you could point me to my suite, I would be grateful.”

“Upstairs and to the left,” the maid said, her eyes still directed towards the floor. “Sophia just drew a bath for the- for your arrival.”

“Thank you,” Emily paused, waiting for the maid to introduce herself.

“Teresa, Your Majesty.”

“Corvo, help Teresa get the towels in order and make sure my things are brought in?”

“Of course,” he replied, the only hint of his annoyance a flash in his eyes.

Emily smiled and walked past him, heading to where Teresa had indicated. She found the room easily enough, the maid she assumed to be Sophia coming out as she entered. She paid her slight attention as she headed for the bath chamber. Once inside, she locked the door behind her. Stripping out of her clothes, she stepped into the warm bath and relaxed in the jasmine scented water. Muted through the water, she heard someone drag something into her main room, as well as the door shutting again. After a few minutes of soaking, she started scrubbing the salt from her skin and hair.

Wrapping a towel around herself and letting her hair tumble across her shoulders, Emily stepped out of the tub. She opened the door to her suite, noting the trunk at the foot of her bed and the vanity across from it. Emily took a seat on the plush chair of the vanity and set about combing her hair. The dark wet strands unknotted easily as she dragged a comb through them, even as the air dried them.

Pins from one of the drawers of the vanity allowed her to style it like she preferred. Corvo had often told her that it reminded him of her mother when she wore it. The style had quickly become one of her favorites, although as she had grown older she had started to wear it only when she needed to deal with the affairs of state. One of the most important things she had learned from Corvo, aside from sword fighting and how to wield a crossbow with deadly accuracy, was how to bend the perceptions people had. Evoking the image of her mother, the murdered Empress, simply by styling her hair a certain way had served her well on a few occasions.

“The silver comb would accent well,” Corvo said. Emily turned around in her seat, adjusting her towel so that it wouldn’t fall as she did so.

“It’s very rude to sneak into a lady’s chambers, my Lord Protector,” Emily said teasingly. She picked up the comb he mentions and threaded it through her hair. She turned her head side to side in the mirror, nodding her agreement to his reflection.

“I helped your mother change your nappies when you were a baby,” he replied, a hint of humor in his voice. Emily watched his reflection as she began to apply her makeup. He opened up her trunk and pulled out a few outfits, setting one on the bed. The others he carried to her closet, hanging them up or putting them in a drawer as necessary. “I believe my being in your chambers is less offensive than that.”

“Very well then, I excuse you,” she said, putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

Getting up from the vanity, she went over and examined his choice in outfit. It was a suit she used for dealing with the business of the Empire, the coat a somber blue with a purple lining. Gold accented the collar, denoting her rank. The shirt beneath it was black silk, inlaid with golden designs on the long neck of the shirt. It would spill over the edge of the jacket slightly, but the effect had looked good when she had worn it in the past. Or, at the very least, no one had criticized her choice in outfit.

“I am very much relieved,” Corvo said, coming over and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. Emily turned slightly and wrapped her arms around him, smiling into his jacket. He had changed since their arrival at the house, the coat he wore fitting loosely in the style he preferred.

He also still smelled of brine and the darkest parts of the ocean.

“Corvo, is something wrong?”

His arms tightened around her, and she felt the bristles of his beard against her forehead. He relaxed, his arms dropping and allowing her to take a step back and look at him.

“I had a visitation,” he said. Emily’s eyes narrowed, darting down to his gloved hand.

“From _him_?”

Corvo nodded, his eyes staring off into the distance. Emily frowned and pulled his left hand into her own, tugging off his ever present gloves. Her finger traced the mark on the back of his hand. The faintest golden glow spiraling out from the paths her finger marked. Corvo tugged his hand back and slid it back into the glove, hiding the mark of heresy.

“I have a bad feeling,” Corvo told her.

Emily nodded, taking the outfit he had laid out and going over to the room divider. Tossing the towel over the edge, she pulled on her clothes. Corvo was silent, even as she walked back around. She buckled the jacket and adjusted the collar of her shirt so that it hung appropriately.

“The Duke is the entire reason we came to Serkonos,” she said. Corvo nodded, watching as she went over to the vanity to do a second check. “Do you think we should cancel?”

“It might be nothing,” Corvo said with a shake of his head.

“But you don’t think so,” Emily pressed.

“I don’t know.”

She watched his reflection as he ran a hand through his short hair, before rubbing it across his trimmed beard. Emily turned back toward him, folding her arms across her chest. Corvo’s eyes softened as he looked at her, a vast improvement over the distance they had held during their voyage.

“Corvo- Father,” she said, startling him. “Duke Theodanis is a good man, you’ve said so yourself. He asked for me to come, and I cannot afford to lose him as an ally in Parliament. Whatever he needs to say to me, it was important enough that he couldn’t leave Serkonos or trust it to a letter.”

“All the more reason that it could be an attempt on your life,” Corvo argued. “You insisted on travelling without a retinue, which means I am the only one who can protect you. If anything were to happen to you I...”

Corvo paused, and Emily bit her lip. She knew Corvo still felt guilty over the death of her mother. They both knew there was nothing he could have done, that Burrows and his conspirators would have tried again if the assassin had failed. The assassin who, Corvo had told her before the inquest, had felt a great remorse at the murder committed. The assassin whom he let leave, despite what he had done. Sometimes she still felt anger over that. The man who killed her mother shouldn’t have been able to walk around as a free man, enjoying the life that had been robbed from her mother. Age had tempered it, but sometimes it flared.

Still, she had done as he had asked and told Parliament that she didn’t know what the assassin looked like. That he had worn a mask, and that she had been hooded when she was delivered to Burrows and his conspirators. That she didn’t remember the scar that ran down the side of his face, or the way he smelled slightly of cigar smoke. The way he spoke, similar in some ways to Corvo, as if they had come from the same place originally.

“I am the Empress,” Emily said softly. “I have never truly been safe, Corvo. Someone, at any given time, could decide to send assassins after me. And maybe they would have luck, and they could kill me.”

“Please, don’t-”

“That does not mean that I lock myself away from everyone,” she soldiered on. “I cannot be someone high in a tower and untouchable. It simply isn’t the way that the world works.”

“I know,” Corvo said, the words sounding broken. “I know.”

“The Duke will not let me come to harm in his house,” she said, reaching a hand out to him. Corvo grasped it and used it to pull her against him again. Emily tucked her head under his chin, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing.

“He wouldn’t dare,” Corvo agreed.

She stepped away from him, pretending not to notice when he wiped at his eyes. Emily reached down and grabbed a pair of boots from her trunk, sitting on the bed to pull them on. The black leather shone in the afternoon sunlight, showing that they were well taken care of. A mark in Piero’s favor, she supposed. He had assured her that the trunk wouldn’t take on water, no matter what kind of storms they came across in their journey to Serkonos.

Emily stood, rocking back and forth on her feet to get comfortable in the boots. Corvo’s hands pulled something out from the inside of his coat, and he held it towards her as she stood up straight. A folding blade, one she knew he had carried for fifteen years, sat in his hands, offered up to her. She looked at him and shook her head slightly.

“Corvo, I can’t-”

“For me, then?” he asked. Emily took the blade and flipped it, catching the hilt as the blade extended. She repeated the motion, before clipping it to her belt. Hopefully no one would notice, or if they did, they would see it as Corvo intended. She smoothed her coat, making sure that it didn’t ruin the line, before looking at her father again.

“Do I look all right? she asked with a slow spin to defuse the tension that had mired the room.

“Anything the Duke has will look as if he got it from a second hand tailor,” Corvo assured her.

“And you look dapper,” she told him.

“Dapper?” he asked. He considered it for a moment, snorting when he ran a hand over his beard. “I suppose there are worse things to be called by a pretty young woman.”

A knock came at the door, interrupting them.

“Your Majesty, the Duke has sent a coach to take you to his residence,” Teresa said. “Shall I tell the driver to wait in the kitchen while you ready yourself?”

“Yes, thank you,” Emily said. “I shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

Feeling a piece of hair hanging by her ear, Emily turned towards her vanity again. Another pin went into her hair, securing the errant lock.

“I need you to memorize something,” Corvo said quietly. Emily looked over her shoulder, confusion crossing her face.

“What?”

“Streets,” he replied. “House numbers.”

“If you insist, I suppose,” she said, turning to face him fully.

“15 Lemcrow Nook, 45 Maddaus Arch, and 23 Cedarcroft Alley,” he listed off. Emily nodded, fixing the details in her mind, only for him to shake his head. “Repeat them back to me.”

“15 Lemcrow Nook, 45 Maddaus Arch, 23 Cedarcroft Alley,” she recited back to him. “Why these addresses?”

“They’re safe houses,” he told her. “If anything happens, you get to one of them. Promise me.”

“Corvo, nothing is going to happen.”

“Please, Emily.”

“I promise,” she acceded. “If only to ease your mind.”

“Then I am much relieved,” Corvo said. “To your appointment, then?”

Emily nodded, feeling him fall in behind her as she exited her suite. Unlike the click of her boots against the wooden floors, Corvo made no sound as they walked to the stairwell. Once she had asked for shoes made like his, having wanted the ability to sneak up on others. Corvo had refused, and had made sure that Piero knew better than to give into her whims. Older, if not wiser, she knew now that the silent tread of his shoes hinted at things that others preferred not to think about.

Teresa ran to get the driver when they reached the first floor. The man was a consummate professional, giving her a short bow before he hopped up into the coachman’s seat. The coach was of a finer quality than the one Corvo had rented for their arrival, and Emily debated asking the Duke if she could borrow it during their stay. It was unlikely that he would refuse, and Corvo would prefer a coach that he didn’t have to check before each use.

Corvo gave her a short nod, rising from where he had knelt to check the undercarriage. Emily stepped forward, letting him help her into the coach. The seats were plush, and Emily stopped herself from sprawling as she so desperately wanted to. Corvo entered on the opposite side, his hand rapping on the wooden side of the coach before closing the door behind him. Rather than close his eyes as he had on their initial trip, this time he kept his eyes open, looking out the windows for any threats.

When they reached the main streets, she saw his fingers curl into his trousers. The people had lines the edges of the street, some beginning to cheer when they caught sight of the coach. Emily put on her courtly mask, waving lightly at those she passed. The first thrown flowers had Corvo wincing, before he settled back into his seat and closed his eyes. His apprehension at the whole situation was something she had gotten used to whenever she left Dunwall, even if she saw no real harm in flowers.

The crowd of people was stopped by the gates to the Duke’s cliffside palace. Emily peered out the window to look at the building, and comparing it to what she remembered from her last visit. The columns seemed smaller, but that could have been because of her age. Her growth spurt hadn’t truly hit until she was thirteen, and many things had seemed large to a twelve year old.

Emily waited in her seat when the coach pulled to a stop. Corvo got out and walked around, helping her out. She took a moment to straighten her coat, running a hand down her side to make sure that the folding blade wasn’t noticeable. As they walked towards the main doors, Emily heard the faint sounds of music from somewhere on the grounds. She groaned internally, hoping that the Duke would not expect her to enter the party when he had business to discuss.

The doors opened, revealing a man dressed in fine servants clothing. The butler bowed to her, holding the pose while she walked past into the foyer. He shut the doors behind them, letting her take in the interior without a fuss.

“Your Majesty,” the butler said, coming to her side and bowing again. “His Highness, Duke Theodanis, has asked if you would be amenable to a reception in his private study.”

“If the Duke would prefer,” Emily said, letting her eyes rake over the paintings that decorated the room. Most seemed familiar, though she had never seen the subject matter before. The style was similar to the one Sokolov preferred.

The butler led them up the stairs, taking them through a maze of hallways. One opened up into a staircase, and the faint sounds of music grew louder for a moment. She caught sight of two guards outside a door, their demeanors suggesting that they would be able to handle anything that came at them. Emily kept a calm face, but shot a look at Corvo. His hands had fallen to his sides, open and ready to disarm anyone if they came near her.

“Is the Duke hosting a party?” Corvo asked, saving her the worry of being rude and asking herself.

“His son, Luca, actually,” the butler said. Only years of courtly training let Emily keep her mask as the butler sniffed in distaste. “His father indulges him.”

“His heir, correct?” Emily asked. The butler nodded.

“Yes, after Eustace’s demise,” he replied. He came to a stop beside a large wooden door, and knocked twice.

“Yes, yes, come in,” came a call from inside.

The butler opened the door, holding it for her as she entered. “Her Majesty, Empress Emily Kaldwin,” he announced. When Corvo stepped in behind her, he quickly added, “And her Lord Protector, Corvo Attano.”

The first sight of Duke Theodanis had Emily almost at ease with the older man. He stood with his back to her, reaching up to put a book on a shelf. Within a second of her announcement he set it aside, turning and sweeping into a bow. Emily smiled, a real one, and stepped forward, extending her hands to him. He gathered them up, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before rising to his full height. Corvo walked around the room, signalling her that there were no hidden spaces with a shake of his head.

“Duke Theodanis,” Emily said warmly. “Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

“If only you’ll accept my apologies for asking you here so soon after your arrival,” he replied. “Please, have a seat.”

Emily looked around the room, spying two plush chairs next to a coffee table. She took a seat in one, crossing her ankles as he took the other. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Corvo take up a position behind her chair. Theodanis raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, his eyes flicking between the two of them.

“I don’t see why an apology would be necessary.”

“Oh, fah,” Theodanis tutted as he leaned back in his chair. He cast his eyes around the study, sighing before looking at her again. “If my son hadn’t begged to hold a party, I would have received you on the terrace. It has, I am told, a wonderful view of the sea.”

Emily looked around the study, taking in the multitude of books. “I would have to disagree, Your Grace. I’ve found that a man’s study is the perfect place to judge his character.”

To her surprise, Theodanis laughed at her quip. “You have your mother’s wit.”

“So I have been told,” she replied with a chuckle.

“And, I hope,” he continued, “your mother’s discretion?”

“Some would say that my mother was less than subtle in that regard,” Emily parried.

“So it would seem,” Theodanis agreed. He looked to Corvo, his expression grim for a moment, before he turned his eyes back to her. “If I may ask, Your Majesty, may we conduct the rest of our business in private?”

“Emily,” Corvo hissed.

“Of course,” Emily said, ignoring him. “Corvo, please stand guard outside?”

“Ma’am, I do not believe-”

“You assured me that there were no other ways into this room,” she told him. Turning slightly so that she could see his face, she tilted her head slightly. He sighed, but nodded. When the door clicked shut behind him, Theodanis let out a sigh, sinking further into his chair.

“I have a favor to ask of your,” Theodanis confessed. He got to his feet and went to his desk, pulling out a large folder. Handing them to her when he returned, Theodanis collapsed in his chair again. He seemed much older than he had been just moments ago when Corvo was present.

Emily looked over the papers he had given her. As she read through it, her brow furrowed. Switching back and forth between a few pages, she had to set them on the table to look at him in disbelief.

“You want to change your line of succession?”

Theodanis nodded. “My son, Luca, is not fit to inherit. He has his vices, as every young man does. But something... I do not know what, Your Majesty-”

“Emily, please,” she said, spreading the pages out.

“Theodanis as well, then,” he said, watching as she read over a section again. “But there is a feeling within my heart, Emily. I will not let him ruin Serkonos after my death.”

“Which surely will not come for many years,” she said, putting the papers into an order again.

“You flatter me,” he replied. “I am already past my seventy-fifth year. This is something I must worry about.”

“And you wish for your brother-”

“Half-brother,” Theodanis interjected. “My father married again after my mother’s death.”

“Your half brother to inherit,” Emily corrected. She paused, a small frown forming on her brow. “How old is your brother?”

“Fifty-one.”

“Older,” she mused. “He has a family? Someone to inherit?”

“A daughter a few years younger than yourself. A son who aspires to be in the Grand Guard once he’s old enough,” Theodanis said. “Both would be able to inherit without issue.”

“Are you sure that your son is such a bad choice?” Emily asked, stacking the papers again. “Responsibility has a way of changing a person.”

“We are not all like you,” he said with a chuckle. “I know my son. Luca would destroy everything I and my forefathers have built in Serkonos.”

“You want my support in case Luca tries to claim his uncle is a usurper.”

“Yes.”

Emily sat back in the chair, her hands folding together on her lap. “You’ve put me in a delicate situation with this.”

“I am not the first father to leave his title to someone other than his son,” Theodanis replied. “Nor, I imagine, the last.”

“Even with my support, Luca would be able to challenge this,” she told him. “And he may be able to sway support to his side as a spurned son.”

“I would still ask for it.”

Emily lifted a hand to her face, tapping her finger against her lips. “I will be in Karnaca for the next three months,” she said. “If you would allow me that time to consider, I will give you my answer before I leave.”

“Of course, of course,” Theodanis said, taking the papers back from her. “If you are in need of sights to see-”

A knock at the door interrupted him. It opened, a young man with blond hair swaggering in. Corvo entered behind him, his face stony as he watched the new arrival.

“Father, Cyril said you had a guest,” he said. If you wanted to invite them to the party, you could have said so. There’s always room for more friends.”

“Luca,” Theodanis said, standing.

Emily continued to sit, and she saw confusion flit over Luca’s face. He had become accustomed, she assumed, to the idea that his father was of the highest rank in the room. Everyone stood when the Duke did, except for those of a higher rank. Emily met Luca’s eyes, and let her expression gain a haughty edge.

“May I present Her Majesty, Emily Kaldwin,” Theodanis continued.”

To his credit, Luca broke eye contact and dropped into a bow at her title. “Your Majesty,” he said softly. Emily stood, nodding her head to him as he rose. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“And you as well,” she replied. “Your father has told me much about you.”

“Nothing good, I imagine,” Luca said with a chuckle. “But forgive me for being a terrible host. You must come to the party. It will be the spectacle of the season if Her Majesty would attend the Duke’s soiree.”

“Your party, not mine,” Theodanis corrected him. Luca seemed to take the admonishment in stride, something flashing across his face too quickly for her to see. “And the Empress has only just arrived. To ask her-”

“I would be delighted to attend,” Emily said, interrupting Theodanis’ refusal. “If only your guests will forgive my attire.”

“None of them could compare to your beauty,” Luca said. “Or your tailoring. That is a magnificent outfit.”

“My tailor will love to hear your praises,” she told him.

“If you are to attend, Your Majesty,” Theodanis said, seemingly defeated, “I would be happy to escort you.”

Emily nodded her assent, taking Theodanis’ arm when he held it out. Luca clapped his hands together, a wolfish grin crossing his face.

“Splendid,” he said. “I’ll go ready Cyril to announce you both.”

With that, he swept back out of the study, paying barely a glance at Corvo. Theodanis’ shoulders drooped when his son was out of sight. Emily glanced at Corvo, but he was still focused on where Luca had left. She squeezed Theodanis’ arm lightly, giving him a wan smile when he looked at her.

“You’ve accepted an invitation into a pit of vipers,” Theodanis said, guiding her out of the room.

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” she replied. Corvo chuckled behind her, and she rolled her eyes. “And I won’t stay too long. A few minutes mingling at most.”

“The boy wants to impress his friends,” Theodanis said dismissively as they descended the staircase. “Having the Empress attend his party will give him standing he can ride for months.”

“Such is my life,” Emily said, glancing over her shoulder at Corvo, before continuing. “Being the statement of the season is one of the things I have learned to enjoy. A consolation prize for my birth, as it were.”

“That sharp tongue will help you,” he said. “Perhaps you can even cut a few of them down to size.”

The butler, Cyril, opened the door to the terrace for them as they reached him. Emily looked around in surprise as they stepped out of the house proper, taking in the view. While she had known the Duke’s palace had been carved into the mountainside, she hadn’t expected the terrace to overlook the ocean itself. The only thing separating the party guests from a fall was a railing, but even then she saw a few groups situated near it. Corvo slipped around to her right side, and she watched as his eyes went to the guards stationed at regular intervals. His fingers flexed minutely, but stilled when he caught her looking at him.

“Her Majesty, Emily Kaldwin the First, Empress of the Isles,” Cyril read out. “Accompanied by His Highness, Theodanis Abele, Grand Duke of Serkonos.”

The entire party paused, the small symphony that had been playing falling silent. Emily and Theodanis stepped down into the garden area, the people parting like waves before them. When they finally regained their senses and bowed, Emily couldn’t help but grin.

“Forgive our intrusion,” she said warmly, gathering a few laughs from the crowd. Her words seemed to diffuse the tension of her arrival, and slowly the guests returned to their own amusements.

“Would you care for a drink?” Theodanis asked.

“No, thank you,” Emily said, removing her arm from his. Theodanis nodded, taking her dismissal and heading towards the bar.

Smiling graciously at a few of the other guests, Emily walked over to the railing. Corvo followed, standing off to the side, close enough to grab her if she were to go over. Leaning slightly over the railing, she looked down and immediately wished she hadn’t. Closing her eyes, she willed away the vertigo.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

Emily opened her eyes, looking at the two people who had walked up next to her. The man who addressed her had slicked back brown hair, and a thin moustache sitting above his lap. He looked to be no more than ten or fifteen years her senior, in stark contrast to the woman accompanying him. She looked to be the same age as Corvo, a hint of gray in her chestnut hair.

“It certainly is,” she replied. “A little daunting, but I admire the craftsmanship it required.”

“And I accept your admiration,” the man said while the woman tittered. “Kirin Jindosh,” he introduced himself, “Grand Inventor of Serkonos. And my company is the lovely Lady Isabel, Marchioness of Saggunto.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty,” Isabel said. “I hadn’t heard that you were visiting Serkonos, or I would have invited you to a party myself.”

“My Prime Minister encouraged me to take a vacation,” Emily lied. “Something about growing old before my time and not experiencing my youth.”

“Ah, youth,” Isabel said, her tone wistful. “Such a wonderful thing.”

“You still exist in the prime of yours,” Kirin said.

Isabel tutted at him with a generous smile. “And you have no need for my patronage, yet you still flatter me so.” She turned to Emily and said in a false whisper, “He studied at the Academy under your own Royal Physician. One of the brightest men I have ever met, and with manners that Sokolov lacks.”

“Unfortunately I don’t think he will ever claim to have them,” Emily said.

“Indeed,” Isabel said. “But enough about such boorish matters. You said that you were on vacation?”

“For a few months, yes,” she said.

“And the Duke didn’t know you were coming?” Kirin interjected. “He could have sent guards to the docks to welcome you.”

“I’m afraid the entire matter was of my own choosing,” Emily said. “I did not want to trouble anyone with a royal welcome.”

“Then this shall be that welcome!”

Emily flinched as Luca came to stand next to her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Corvo start forward, but she shook her head slightly to stop him. He relaxed, if a tad slower than she would have liked.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt your event,” Emily told him.

“No, no, I insist,” Luca said. Isabel nodded, smiling coyly at Luca when he looked at her. “It will change everything I have planned, of course, but plans are meant to be changed.”

“Please, not on my account-”

“Nonsense,” Luca said. “Kirin, if you could help me with something, we’ll have everything ready in a few short moments.”

All three of them inclined their heads to her in a short bow, before leaving. Emily felt a cold chill down her back, and shivered slightly. She looked over the railing again, and stepped away, crossing her arms in hope of warding off the sea breeze. Corvo’s hand on her arm made her look at him, and she caught the serious look on his face.

“Something isn’t right,” he whispered. “We need to leave. Now.”

“All right,” she agreed, knowing better than to contradict him when he was in this state. “Let me say my goodbyes to the Duke, and we will.”

Corvo was a strong presence at her back as she made her way over to the bar. Theodanis sat chatting with one of the other nobles, but stood when he saw her approaching. She stopped a few feet away, and he made his apologies to his friend. He smiled as he walked over, and she met his with a tired one of her own.

“My apologies, but I’m afraid I must leave,” Emily said. “The day seems to have worn me out more than anticipated.”

“Who am I to stop you?” Theodanis replied. “I think I might-”

“Your Majesty, leaving before the announcement?” Luca asked, sliding up next to his father. “The main event hasn’t even started.”

“The day has been long,” she told him. “As much as I would enjoy the rest of your party, I would hate to ruin it for anyone.”

“I imagine it’s already been ruined,” Luca replied.

Before Emily could ask what he meant, she saw a flash of silver in his hands. Instinct, drilled into her by Corvo for years, had her drawing the folding blade. Instead of coming at her, Luca turned the knife on his father, driving the blade into Theodanis’ chest. Emily let her sword hand drop, shielding her face from the spray of blood as Luca ripped the knife free.

“She’s killed him!” he shouted, confusing her for a moment.

Luca pressed his hand to his father’s chest, blood welling up and covering his already splattered hands and hiding his guilt. The blade he had used was gone, leaving the only visible weapon the sword in her hand. Emily looked down at herself, taking note of the blood on her clothes. She then looked to Theodanis, only to see him gasp in agony before falling silent.

She didn’t remember her mother’s death. The assassin who had taken her had pushed her head into his shoulder, shielding her eyes. Emily remembered her mother calling for her, and then a rush of air that made her feel sick to her stomach. None of the horror had touched her that day. She hadn’t even known her mother was dead until almost a week later, when one of the girls from the Cat had let it slip.

Emily shook her head, getting rid of the errant thought. Corvo grabbed her arm, pulling her away from Luca and Theodanis’ body. He said something in her ear, and she nodded dumbly. The pressure on her arm tightened, and she forced herself to pay attention to what he was saying.

“Emily, we have to leave,” he repeated.

“Don’t let her get away!” Luca shouted in counterpoint.

Corvo herded her towards the main doors, the guests parting before them, only to pull her behind him when two of the Duke’s guards moved to block them. He shoved her to the left as one of them moved to strike at her. She watched as he dodged his opponent, using what looked like a silver platter as a shield. He caught the inside of the guard’s arm with the edge of the platter, forcing him to drop his blade. Corvo picked it up, hamstringing the man when he tried to rise. The man screamed until Corvo hit him with the pommel, dropping him into unconsciousness.

A shine in the corner of her vision had her bringing her blade up, blocking the incoming strike. The guard seemed surprised, and Emily let her training take over. And overhead swing batted his sword down, and she charged with her shoulder, using her momentum to knock him to the ground. Before she could place the tip of her sword at his throat, Corvo had grabbed her again, pulling her back towards the cliff.

The guards had organized after Corvo’s initial attack, swarming around the man she had forced to the ground. She glanced at Corvo, and saw hopelessness in his eyes. Against three or four, she had no doubt that they would have been able to escape. There were easily ten, however, each of them fresher than either of them.

“Surrender, Emily Kaldwin,” Luca said, the guards parting enough for them to see him. “You must answer for what you’ve done.”

“You’re threatening an Empress,” Corvo said, stepping in front of her. “I’d think carefully before I continued if I were you.”

“She’s gone mad,” Luca said. “She’s killed one of her strongest supporters, a man who was a close confidante of her mother-”

“Don’t you speak of her,” Emily said, cutting him off. He looked at her, contempt visible on his brow.

“You’re in no position to bargain, Lord Protector,” Luca replied, ignoring her. “There’s no way for you to escape.”

Emily saw Corvo’s shoulders tense. They both knew what Luca said was true. They had their backs to a sheer cliff, with a drop that would kill any man who attempted it. Corvo looked over his shoulder, and she saw regret in his eyes. Before she could say anything, he turned and grabbed her by the shoulders, throwing her over the railing.

“Find Daud!” he whispered in her ear, before she dropped towards the ocean.

She closed her eyes, waiting to hit the water. When nothing happened, and even the sound of rushing air seemed to have disappeared, Emily opened her eyes onto a vast blue void. Gravity seemed to reassert itself when she did so, and she fell the few remaining feet onto a floating cobblestone street. Emily got to her feet warily, letting the blade collapse in her hand. She put in back inside her coat, her eyes panning around for anyone or anything to give her a point of reference.

**_“It’s happened again.”_ **

Emily whirled around, coming face to face with a being she remembered from her nightmares. And from the stories Corvo had told her. The Outsider stared back at her, his black eyes seeming to see into the depths of her soul.

 ** _“Someone’s pulled the rug out from under you,”_ ** he continued, stepping closer to her. Emily held her ground, refusing to be scared by him. **_“An Empire at your feet, and you’ve lost it all. Be honest,”_ ** he said, tilting his head as he looked at her, **_“did you really deserve any of it?”_**

“Aren’t you the one who let Corvo get it back for me?” she asked.

Something in his face changed for a moment, becoming more feral. This time she took a step back. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, his expression returning to one of mild interest.

 ** _“More important,”_** he said, **_“what would you do to get it back?”_**

“I haven’t lost anything,” she argued. The Outsider tilted his head to the side, examining her like Sokolov did his pinned insects. “And even if I had, I’d take it back.”

 ** _“Careful,”_ ** he warned, a smug smirk crossing his lips. _**“There’s always a price to pay.”**_

Emily gasped as her left hand burned. She dropped to her knees, watching a mark she had often seen on her father’s hand be duplicated on her own. She looked up at the Outsider, incredulous, before dropping her eyes to the Mark again. When she turned back to him, he had vanished, leaving her there.

Slowly, she got to her feet. Corvo had shown her his powers when she was younger, letting her see all that he could do. Around her there were more floating streets, and she flexed her hand thoughtfully. Corvo had been able to traverse distances with his powers, blinking from place to place as necessary. Emily held her hand out in front of her, imagining that she was at one of the other platforms.

The Mark glowed golden, but instead of transporting her, thick rope-like appendages appeared around her arm, tugging her off her feet and to the other platform. Emily stumbled as they vanished, falling to her knees on the cobblestone. Forcing herself to her feet again, she made a few more jumps before finding herself at the last visible platform. The Outsider appeared in front of her like ashes from a fire, and she took a step back in surprise.

 ** _“What you decide will ripple across the years,”_ ** he said. **_“Blood in the gutters and corruption on the wing.”_**

“Why me?” she asked, throwing her arms to the side. The Outsider looked at her, the smallest hint of a true smile on his face.

 ** _“It’ll be fun watching this unfold,”_** he told her. _**“What will you do with the power I’ve given you? How will you make your mark on this wretched world?”**_

Before she could ask him any more, the world dropped out from under her feet. Emily sucked in a desperate breath, only to take in rancid seawater. Kicking her feet, she struggled towards what she hoped was the surface. Her head broke through the water, and she gasped for air. Blinking the water out of her eyes, she looked around, trying to determine where she was. There was no sight of the cliff that Corvo had thrown her off of. Instead, what looked like a sewer sat in front of her.

Stretching her hand towards the top of the pipe, she summoned the appendages that she had used in the Void. The tendrils faded when she reached it, but the Mark glowed for a few more seconds, visible even in the dying sunlight. She knew she would need to hide it. Corvo had told her, shortly after she became Empress, that he wore gloves because otherwise people would draw unfortunate implications. She hadn’t understood it at the time, the Abbey’s doctrines the furthest thing from an eleven year old’s mind.

Reaching down to the edge of her coat, she drew the folding blade and hacked it off. Taking out the lining, she tossed the remains into the sewer. Emily wrapped the lining around her hand, tying in in the tightest knot she could. It wasn’t foolproof, but it would withstand most scrutiny. Hopefully.

It was a simple matter to get to the street level, but the odd looks that she got from the people she walked past had her ducking into an alley. Emily waited until the crowd of people thinned out, pretending not to notice when some of them shot her odd looks. Once the largest group had passed, she went back out onto the street, sticking close to the shopfronts.

“I’m telling ya, there was a lady in fancy dress right there.”

Emily looked over her shoulder, spying a young man talking to a pair of guards. They were standing outside the alley that she had left not seconds earlier. The man’s eyes caught hers, and went wide as he pointed at her to the guards. She turned back around, quickening her steps.

“That’s her, there!”

She could feel the finger pointed at her, even though she didn’t dare turn around. The guards said something to the man, too low for her to hear, before one of them called out after her. Emily hunched her shoulders, her eyes scanning for anything that would get her out of their sight. A few shopkeepers met her eyes nervously, before flitting to whomever was approaching her. A hand on her shoulder drew Emily up short, and she had to fight the response to duck away.

“Miss, are you all right?” the guard said. “Did you lose your chaperone?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, clenching her fists.

“I’d rather say you aren’t-” the second said, coming around to look at her. Emily met his eyes warily, watching as recognition struck him. His eyes went to his partner, who obviously didn’t understand.

“Let me go,” she said, her voice still low. The second guard stepped away, unsure of what to do.

“Hold her,” he told his partner, whose hand tightened like a vise on her shoulder. “The captain said if we found her-”

Whatever the captain said, Emily didn’t care. She drew her blade again, driving the hilt into the gut of the man behind her. As his partner moved to draw his own, she kicked at him, catching his wrist with a sickening snap. The man fell to his knees, clutching his broken arm, and her second kick caught him on the side of the head. He dropped, his eyes closed before he hit the street.

His partner grabbed at her again, missing her arm as she ducked out of the way. The shopkeepers and the people browsing their wares panicked as he drew his own blade, spurred on by the man already on the ground. The guard’s first swing was clumsy, allowing Emily to block it with ease. Rather than letting him attack a second time, she stepped inside his next swing, her blade slicing at his arm. The guard dropped his sword, pain overriding any training. She snapped her hilt at his head and knocking him out.

The people around her were truly panicked, and Emily looked for another alley to duck down. Seeing one a few shops past where she was, she ran to it. She summoned the tendrils that had helped her before, using them to pull herself to the roof. Streets were not going to be an option, based on how that encounter had gone.

The tolling of bells drew her attention to the sounds she had ignored in her haste to get to the roof. Glass shattered somewhere below her, and she heard a group of men grunting as they carried something heavy. Smoke began to rise from the street, and she knew it was time for her to leave.

Her shoes clicked across the roof tiles, the sound stopping for a moment every time she used her new power to get to a new one. Luca Abele had murdered his father and blamed her. The question of why she could possibly answer, knowing about the change in succession that Theodanis had planned. But the reason for blaming her eluded her comprehension.

“Find Daud,” she whispered to herself, shaking off the thoughts. The name was unfamiliar to her, and she couldn’t remember Corvo having ever mentioned it to her. But for him to have mentioned it, he must have trusted the man who owned with his life, if not her own.

“15 Lemcrow Nook, 45 Maddaus Arch, 23 Cedarcroft Alley,” she repeated, trying to get the fear that was rising in her chest under control. Corvo had given her those house numbers for a reason, in case something happened to him.

For Luca’s sake, she hoped nothing had happened to her father. No force here or in the Void would stop her from getting her revenge if he died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some of you might recognize parts of this from my Fugue Feast compilation. After writing the three prompts that had to do with Dishonored 2, I knew I had to write more. Of course, I imagine this will be the farthest thing from canon when the game comes out, but we have half a year until that happens. And I'm dying to know what happens in that game. So I decided to write my own ideas, and just have fun with it. 
> 
> It'll be fun watching this unfold, won't it?


	2. Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The footsteps were heavier than what he expected, but it made him glad that he had warned Thomas that they were having company.

One of these mornings he wasn’t going to get up.

On that morning, however, Thomas would no doubt come in, pull him out from between his sheets, and get him started on his day anyway. Thomas had said as much when he pulled him out from between his sheets three months after they left Dunwall. And he had a point, even though his idea of helping had been to throw him over the side of the boat into the sea. The soak had snapped him out of his fugue, which had pleased the Whalers who had accompanied him on his flight from Dunwall to no end.

A surprising number had ended up following him into his self-imposed exile. Thomas had been a given, as well as the kids he had taken up out of the streets. A few of the former mercenaries had decided to stay, and when they had ended up in Karnaca, some had managed to join the Grand Guard. The information that they gave him, much as he discouraged them not to, gave him a view of the political climate on the island. If he was being honest with himself, Daud probably had information that would rival that of the Royal Spymaster, at least for Serkonos.

A few of the Whalers who had left his service still checked in every few years, supplying him with even more information. Occasionally, when something caught his eyes, Daud would don his gear again and stop a threat from appearing. If the Whalers noticed that the threats he took an interest in related in some way to the young Empress, they didn’t comment on it.

Groaning, Daud pushed himself up, swinging his legs off the side of his bed. As he walked out of his bedroom, he could hear the faint sounds of something being fried in the kitchen below, but he ignored it. The bathroom door was unlocked, and he shucked his nightclothes for a steaming shower. The water, close to scalding, worked out the last of the kinks in his neck and back. Reaching his arms over his head, he felt more than heard the vertebrae pop, allowing his shoulders to relax.

A few of the scars that he had collected over the years twinged as he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, Daud stepped toward the mirror, a hand massaging one shaped like a coin of ten on his chest. A match for it rested on his back, a few inches higher, and closer to his spine. It had been the closest that anyone had come to killing him, a few months after the Outsider had “gifted” him the mark on his palm. Over the years the scar had become a gauge for him, letting him know that something was going to happen before it did.

The last time it had ached, an Empress had died by his hand.

Patting himself dry, Daud looked in the mirror. He ran a hand over his chin, feeling the stubble that covered it. Wrinkling his nose, he decided against shaving. Occasionally he went months without shaving, letting the hair grow until it covered the scars on his jaw. Thomas would no doubt expect that he was doing such again.

As he exited the bathroom, the scent of frying meat hit his nose. Shaking his head slightly, he re-entered his room, tossing his towel over a chair. It was quick work for him to pick out his outfit for the day. Since coming to Serkonos, Daud had been able to reinvent himself as a successful businessman who retired to the seaside city in his old age. Some nice slacks, paired with a vest, gave off the impression of money, without showing how much.

“I’m going to eat all of this if you don’t get down here soon.”

Daud rolled his eyes at Thomas’ shout. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he pulled on a pair of boots, personally altered to muffle his footsteps when he walked. Finally dressed to his own standard, Daud went downstairs, unsurprised to see Thomas sliding blood sausage onto two full plates, the silverware balanced precariously on the edge. Picking one up, he raised an eyebrow at Thomas. His former second-in-command huffed, and gestured him toward the table with his spatula. Taking a seat, Daud waited for Thomas to join him before beginning to eat.

Thomas had refused to leave his side and settle in his own house when the Whalers had finally decided to stay in Karnaca. Daud hadn’t said anything when he had claimed one of the rooms on the bottom floor. Some of the neighbors had looked at them strangely, until Thomas had introduced himself as Daud’s son. This apparently settled most of them, even if they couldn’t be any more different in appearance.

“We’ll need to visit the market,” Thomas said before popping a piece of sausage in his mouth. “Dimitri said that the fish have been good this week.”

Daud grunted his assent, which made Thomas look at him sharply. He couldn’t fault him for noticing the change in his demeanor, especially after fifteen years of living together. Thomas sat his fork down, tilting his head slightly.

“Retirement doesn’t suit you,” Thomas told him, changing subjects.

Daud snorted as he took a bite of toast. “I’m not retired.”

“Of course not,” Thomas replied airily. “You prefer to hide away in your study reading old plays. Forgive me for thinking otherwise.”

“Perhaps I’ve decided to become a scholar,” Daud said.

“If a scholar could wield a blade like you, maybe more people would be afraid of them,” Thomas said.

“Being witty won’t get you anything.”

“Then tell me what’s bothering you.”

Daud rubbed a hand over his face before fixing Thomas with a suffering glare. Thomas smirked. Years ago he might have dropped the line of questioning, but any fear of Daud had disappeared when he had ascended to his right hand.

“Something’s not right,” he admitted.

“Did someone find some information that troubled you?”

“No,” he said, absently rubbing at his chest. “It’s most likely nothing.”

“Is Billie coming to visit?” Thomas asked, accepting the answer. “Maybe she’ll finally stick a blade in you.”

“And risk your sword in hers?” Daud replied.

Thomas laughed, picking up his empty plate. “I’m sure that I could take her if it came to that,” he said. “Then again, maybe I’d just swear my sword arm to her, if she could best you in a duel.”

Daud rolled his eyes and finished up his plate. Thomas took his plate when he walked over to their sink, dropping it in to soak with the others. His second motioned for him to grab a towel, handing him a plate when he did so. Daud looked out the kitchen window to the back garden, drying the dishes as Thomas handed them to him.

To the uninformed eye, the small garden in the back hosted nothing more than a few pretty plants and trees. If the Grand Guard, however, were to look at it, they would see more than enough poisonous plants to kill half the city’s lords and ladies. The rewards outweighed the risks, as far as he was concerned. Having poison on hand had always been useful, and making his own meant that there were less people to betray him if someone went to the Guard.

“Do you want your coat?” Thomas asked as he handed him the last dish.

Daud shook his head. “Grab my coin purse from the study. I’ll meet you in the landing.”

With a cheeky grin, Thomas transversed upstairs. Daud let out an annoyed huff, setting the pan on the stove to finish drying. In the safety of their house, both of them felt comfortable using their powers, knowing that no one who hadn’t been invited would enter. That didn’t mean that Thomas didn’t abuse it sometimes, but there was little he could do to stop him.

Thomas was waiting by the door, and tossed him the coin purse as he walked towards him. Daud caught it easily, tucking it into his vest. Thomas opened the door, stepping out into the early afternoon light. The terraced houses on either side of theirs were dark, as they should be if one of his Whalers were not in residence. A neighbor four houses down nodded to them as they walked past, and Daud tipped his head in acknowledgement. Thomas actually greeted him, and got one in return.

“It wouldn’t kill you to be kind to the neighbors every now and again,” he said as they turned onto the street that would lead them to the open air market.

“That’s what I have you for.”

“And if I asked you our neighbor’s name?”

“Adam Lydes, forty seven years old, wife died of blood poisoning two years ago,” Daud listed off.

“He’s not a target,” Thomas said with a sigh. “Do you know the man?”

“I don’t care to,” he replied.

“If it weren’t for me, our neighbors would think you a recluse.”

“They don’t already?”

That got a chuckle from him. “If I drag you out a few times a week, or someone comes over to visit, no.”

“Then I leave my social standing in your hands,” Daud said.

“What little there is of it,” Thomas muttered as they turned again, this time onto a street with a clear shot to the harbor.

The open air market could be heard before they saw it. A few fishmongers tried to get Daud’s attention as he entered the market, but he ignored them and walked towards a specific stall. Dmitri gave them both an exasperated smile, grabbing a few fish from his display. Thomas laid his hand on Daud’s arm for a moment, jerking his head in another direction. Daud shrugged his shoulders minutely, watching as the younger man walked off.

“So Thomas finally got you out of your study?” Dimitri asked as he wrapped the fish in butcher’s paper.

“Don’t start,” Daud said.

“Akilia owes me twenty coin,” Dmitri told him. “I told her he was going to have another intervention soon.”

Daud rolled his eyes, bending over slightly to examine the fish. As he did so, a feeling like the lapping waves of the ocean passed over him. Dimitri stiffened, his hand going to his butcher’s knife as the sensation passed over him as well. Daud closed his eyes for a moment, the mark on his palm burning brightly in the center of his mind as he called up his second sight. A bright glow from one of the coaches going past the market caught his eye. Even from a distance, it was undeniable.

Daud swore under his breath, opening his eyes and resting his hands on the boxes Dmitri had set up. The dead eyes of the fish stared back at him, and he forced himself to stand up straight again. He brought his gloved hand up to rub his temple, and looked at Dimitri from beneath it.

“Tell everyone to keep a low profile,” he said finally. “The bodyguard and his charge have decided to pay a visit to Serkonos, and I-”

This time, the feeling that he was being watched was unmistakable. For a moment, everything seemed to slide out of focus, before snapping back to a familiar shape and form. Or, at least, as familiar as the Void could be. Daud straightened and turned around, unsurprised to see the Outsider floating a few feet in front of him.

“Here to warn me off your favorite?” he asked. The Outsider cocked his head to the side, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his bloodless lips.

**_“You of all my chosen should know that I don’t play favorites, Daud,”_** the Outsider said.

“Just a social call, then?” Daud snarked back. “Sorry for not being in a more interesting state.”

The Outsider said nothing, vanishing in smoke and ash. Daud sighed, spying a floating platform within the reach of his transversal. Focusing, he moved, taking a short step afterwards to get his balance as the outcropping tilted. Another was just in front of him, the pillars as familiar as the figures inside of it, and Daud jumped, traversing slightly when he fell short. He landed in a crouch, wincing as his knees creaked.

Rising up, he met the eyes of the dead Empress, the shock and pain on her face as damning as the bloody stain on her chest. He turned away from her, his mouth tightening into a thin line as he saw her bodyguard flat on the ground, his hand outstretched towards his fallen charge.

“Isn’t this getting a bit stale?” Daud asked, turning his back on the scene. “I’m sure you could think of something else to torment me with.”

**_“This was to be the culmination of your acts,”_** the Outsider said instead of rising to the bait.

Daud turned around, unsurprised to see the deity just behind Jessamine’s corpse. His hand hovered over her head, and something passed over his face, although Daud couldn’t place the expression. The Outsider’s hand lowered, skimming the air just above the ruins of her chest, before plunging into it. Daud did his best not to flinch, although he could feel the corner of his eye twitch in revulsion.

With a squelch, the Outsider removed his hand from her torso. He turned towards Daud, his smirk enigmatic as he offered it. Daud narrowed his eyes, but held out his hand.

**_“I give this to you,”_** the Outsider said, letting it drop into his hands. _**“The Heart of a Living Thing, in trust until the one it belongs to comes to claim it.”**_

“Who?” Daud asked.

His hands tightened on the Heart as the world shifted around him again, lines and objects snapping into their places. The chatter of the marketplace, loud after the silence of the Void, made him twitch. The pressure made the Heart thump, as if it was trying to beat again.

_“The fish do not know that they are called to their purpose as they wriggle in the nets,”_ a tired female voice said.

Daud looked at the Heart, a small measure of disgust and horror crossing his face. Dimitri looked at him, concern on his face.

“And what, sir?” he asked. Daud shook his head slightly, trying to remember what he had been about to say before the Outsider took him on a brief visit.

“Nothing,” Daud replied with a shake of his head. “Just be cautious. We don’t need him stirring up anything while he’s here.”

“Of course,” Dimitri said. “Ten coin for the fish.”

Daud tried to hold the Heart in one hand, but the texture of it was impossible for him to grip in his gloves. He held it out towards Dimitri, who looked at him strangely.

“Just hold this thing for a moment,” Daud said, annoyance creeping into his voice.

“Hold what?” Dimitri asked.

“This _thing_ ,” he said, shaking his hand slightly. His grip tightened on the Heart again, and the device thumped in his hand.

“On your orders he took lives - how many I cannot tell.”

Daud flinched, letting the hand holding the Heart drop. Dmitri gave him a strange look as he fumbled a hand in his vest. Grabbing the coin purse, he set it on one of the iceboxes, and pulled out a stack of coins. He handed them to Dimitri, who was still looking at him with concern.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“It’s nothing,” Daud told him. “Wait for instructions if anything changes.”

“Of course, sir,” Dimitri said. His brow was creased with concern, but the Whalers had gotten used to strange things happening around Daud.

Daud grabbed the wrapped fish, settling them into the crook of his arm. He was careful not to squeeze the Heart, not wanting the familiar voice to spout any more truths, but for a lack of pockets it remained in his hand. Walking away from the crowd that had gathered along the sidewalk, Daud caught sight of Thomas talking to the baker’s apprentice. He jerked his head, watching as Thomas said his goodbyes. The young woman grabbed his arm lightly, shoving a few loaves into his arms when he turned back around.

“How is Nora?” Daud asked as Thomas jogged to catch up with him.

“She’s good,” Thomas said, far too casually. Daud grunted, and the cheerful look dropped from Thomas’ face.

“Did something happen?”

“Is there anything in my hand at the moment?”

“No?” Thomas said. “I mean, the fish, but-”

“Something’s going to happen,” Daud told him. “The black eyed bastard decided to drop by and let me know, though not in so many words.”

“And your empty hand-”

“Is holding a heart that no one else seems to be able to see. Dimitri couldn’t, but the arcane bond never chose him, and I needed to test it.”

“And the invisible heart has something to do with whatever’s coming?” Thomas asked.

“Well, considering what happened the last time the bodyguard and I were in the same city, I imagine something spectacularly awful, yes.”

Thomas stopped, swearing lowly under his breath. Daud chuckled humorlessly as Thomas quickened his steps to reach his side again. Rather than continue their conversation, Thomas lapsed into silence, his brow furrowed as they made their way back to the house.

“Tyvia would be nice this time of year,” he said as they mounted the steps. Daud looked at him askance. Thomas shrugged as he opened the door.

“It’s horrible there no matter the time of year. “And I’d rather not run into another ice bear. The one from Lady Montgomery’s estate was one too many.

He walked to the kitchen, letting the bundle of fish slide out of his arm and onto the counter. Setting the Heart on the counter, Daud grabbed the bundle of fish and opened the ice chest, dropping them inside. He heard Thomas sigh somewhere behind him.

“I’m just saying, if we want to avoid any problems, it might be in the best interests of all parties involved if you were to... take a vacation.”

“This from the man who said retirement didn’t suit me?”

“Don’t take my words out of context,” Thomas said, stepping around him. He placed one loaf of bread on the counter, sticking the rest in their breadbox. “That was because you hadn’t left the house in over a week.”

“I tended to the garden.”

“Because the last time Billie wrote you she mentioned that she was running low on Brugmansia leaves, and you said you were going to have some on standby for when she visited.”

Daud didn’t reply, reaching around to pull a knife out of the drawer and throw it at Thomas’ back. His former second turned slightly and caught it by the hilt, before using it to slice the bread he had left on the counter. Daud huffed, his eyes drawn back to the Heart as Thomas puttered around the kitchen.

“It was her way of asking nicely,” he said.

“Only because she’s your favorite,” Thomas teased as Daud leveled a glare at him. “What, are you going to deny it?”

“I would have thought you would have claimed that title,” Daud replied. “Seeing as I’ve let you live with me for the last fifteen years.”

“No, I’m the middle child you’d be lost without,” he fired back without a pause.

“I’ll be in my study,” Daud said, rather than admit his defeat in their verbal spar. He grabbed the Heart, his fingers tightening just a bit too much around it.

_“Death once hung on him like an ill-fitting cloak. Now hope has displaced it.”_

Daud shrugged off the cryptic words, even as they threatened to sink their thorns into his mind. Whatever words the device told him were not his to worry about.

“Reading some of your dusty plays?” Thomas asked after him. Daud grunted as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, just loud enough for Thomas to have heard him. “I’m going to bother Nora, then. You’re on your own for supper.”

He could hear Thomas bustling around in the kitchen as he closed the door to his study. The sound was muted through both the thick oaken door and the plush rugs that carpeted the room. He took a deep breath through his nose, letting the scent of paper and ink calm him. The Heart in his hand thumped lightly, but offered no cryptic advice. Walking over to the desk that sat in front of a trio of windows, he opened the top drawer and dropped the Heart in. The device, although only visible to him, was not something that he wanted in his view.

An open book, a copy of an old Serkonan play, was more what he wanted at the moment. It laid open on his desk, forgotten from the night before, when fatigue had finally forced him to bed. Daud sank into his high backed chair, his shoulders sinking slightly into the leather. His eyes flicked over the room, lingering on the two chairs that sat closer to his shelves for a moment, before flicking to the ceiling. The vent was empty, and he let himself relax, the mid afternoon light that streamed through the windows providing him with more than enough light to read by.

As the light began to dim, he absently turned on a whale oil lamp, the blue light striking shadows into the room. Reaching for a pen, the sound of the front door slamming broke his concentration. Daud opened a drawer, drawing the dagger kept there, and laid it across his lap. Thomas traversed into the room, his hair askew and breathing heavily. Daud stood, putting the dagger back in the drawer, as Thomas shook his head slightly at the question he hadn’t even asked.

“The Empress-” he managed to gasp, bending over to breathe deeply.

“Emily Kaldwin?” Daud asked, a pit of horror yawning in his stomach. “What of her?”

If the Empress was dead, Daud could only pray that the bodyguard would be as merciful as he had been to those who had killed his first charge. But loss had a way of breaking a man, and no doubt the death of his daughter would send him over the edge.

“Marco was stationed outside the Duke’s palace,” Thomas told him. “They’re saying she killed the Duke. Luca Abele is calling for her head.”

“She’s the Empress,” he said, a small note of disbelief worming it’s way into his words. “If she had him killed, I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“She didn’t have him killed,” Thomas replied. “They’re saying she killed him.”

“And the bodyguard allowed them to take her from him?”

“The Guard took him into custody. Marco said he saw him being dragged from the palace to a carriage.”

“Just the bodyguard?” Daud asked. “What of the Empress?”

“He didn’t know. Someone said that Corvo shoved her over the balcony rather than let the soldiers take her.”

Daud turned away from Thomas, who was quickly regaining his breath. The streets outside their home were quiet, a few people walking home from their jobs. The news hadn’t become public yet, that much was clear. The young Empress Kaldwin was popular amongst the lower classes; the tales of what she had done for the poor of Dunwall during the early years of her reign overblown as they crossed the sea. It was far more likely that her advisors had been the ones to make things turn out as well as they had, but they had been smart in giving the laurels to their young empress.

“He should have been able to get her away,” he said, rubbing a hand across his mouth. “Which palace?”

“The one overlooking the sea.”

“That’s a long fall,” Daud muttered to himself, looking out the window. “If she survived the fall, she more than likely drowned. The tides would have dragged her out into the sea, or into the deep.”

Thomas’ reflection warped in the glass, the blue light from the whale oil lamp growing brighter. The street outside vanished in increments, the cobblestone floating away into the Void. Rather than turning around and facing the Outsider, Daud continued to stare out the window, content with the reflection the deity cast in the glass.

“Is this your doing?” he asked. “Were things too boring? Isn’t the death of another Empress just a bit too passé?”

**_“She’s coming to you,”_** the Outsider said. **_“Running across the rooftops with a litany of hope on her lips.”_**

“She’s alive?”

**_“I wonder what you will do when she arrives,”_ ** he mused. **_“Will your guilt force you to help her, or will you abandon her to the wolves that now prowl the streets?”_**

“Answer the question, you black eyed bastard,” Daud ground out.

After fifteen years of relative peace, the Outsider had deigned to visit him twice in one day. The few times he had stumbled upon some unlucky fool’s shrine, he had passed over the runes left in offering, not wanting to draw such attention again. But for the deity to seek him out meant that things were about to happen that involved him.

The Outsider smiled, the motion twisted into something more terrible in the glass. The edges of his teeth seemed to sharpen incrementally. Daud shivered slightly, the motion just visible enough to the deity. A mournful whale call seemed to echo through the Void, and the smile disappeared from the Outsider’s face, replaced with his normal expression of slight interest. Rather than answer his question, the Outsider dematerialized, the street returning to normal outside the glass.

“Daud?” Thomas asked, concern in his voice. Daud turned around, shaking his head slightly.

“How many Whalers are in Karnaca?”

“Twenty,” Thomas answered immediately. If he was confused, he didn’t let it show in his voice. “Fifteen who can be ready at a call.”

“And how many could make it here within a month’s time?”

“We could strengthen our numbers to fifty, easily. Did something happen? You seemed out of it for a moment.”

“Our black eyed _friend_ ,” Daud said with contempt, “decided to pay a visit. Whatever happened with the Empress and the bodyguard is a catalyst for something bigger. I want my people here for when the shit hits the fan.”

“All of them?”

“Anyone who will come,” Daud told him. “Offer payment if that will entice them, but just get them here.”

“I’ll get on it,” Thomas said. He hesitated as he went to turn around, his eyes meeting Daud’s.

“What is it?”

“The houses to either side are empty,” he reminded him. “Should we put them up there?”

“Not too many,” Daud said. “The last time we were all together it was too easy for an enemy to attack us. Tell them to set up safe houses when they arrive, if they don’t already have one. We need to be able to move locations at a moment's notice.”

“Of course, sir,” Thomas said, turning towards the door.

“And, Thomas,” Daud asked. He turned slightly, waiting for the order. “Make sure that only the most basic traps are activated. I’m think we’ll be having company.”

Thomas gave him a short nod, closing the study door behind him. Daud sat in his chair again, flipping through the pages of the play that had engaged him for the afternoon. It no longer held his attention, but would do to throw off anyone who came into the room. As the sunlight dimmed, the blue light from the whale oil lamp threw everything a few feet from his desk into dark shadows. A click on his desk let him know that a trap had been disarmed, but not quickly enough to stop the silent alarm attached to it.

The footsteps were heavier than what he expected, but it made him glad that he had warned Thomas that they were having company. No doubt his second had already heard their intruder, but had obeyed the unspoken order not to interfere. From the corner of his eye, Daud saw the door open. If he hadn’t been looking for it, it was unlikely that he would have noticed the young woman sneaking in. As it was, he looked directly at her, making her take a sharp breath, just loud enough to echo in the room.

Daud closed his book, snapping a switch next to his desk. The room flooded with light, making his visitor blink. Her eyes narrowed as she blinked quickly, her left hand reaching beneath her coat, her right gripping a familiar sword. She looked as if she had taken a swim, pieces of hair escaping from the Tyvian twist that it had been styled in.

“You missed the silent alarm,” he told the young empress, “but you disabled one of my basic traps, which should be commended, I suppose.”

Emily Kaldwin looked at him, rising from her crouch. Her left hand was still tucked beneath her coat, but she made no move to pull out another weapon as he stood and walked around the desk. Daud held his hands out to the side, letting her see that he wasn’t armed. She didn’t fully relax, but she retracted her sword, clipping it onto her belt.

“You’re Daud?” she said. Despite the ordeal that she had no doubt been through, her voice didn’t waver. Daud nodded, and her shoulders slumped, most of the apprehension dropping from her frame.

“Are you injured?” he asked, gesturing to the hand she kept concealed inside her coat.

“No, it’s...” she trailed off, looking around the room for a moment, before meeting his eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

“I sincerely hope you are a better liar when you’re at Parliament, Your Majesty,” he said.

Daud walked over to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her hand out before she could stop him. A strip of cloth was wound a few times around her hand, but not marked by blood. The knot was easy enough to undo, obviously having been made in haste, but once it was undone Daud wished he had let it remain.

“Fucking _bastard_ ,” Daud swore as he looked at the Mark branded on the Empress’ hand.

She tugged it out of his grip, covering it with the palm of her other hand. He looked up at her, noticing the way her eyes went to the windows as a quick exit. Before she could, he tugged the glove off of his left hand to show her a matching Mark. That seemed to calm her, but as skittish as she was, he didn’t have much faith that it would last long.

“Sit down,” he told her, gesturing to the closer chair. “You look dead on your feet.”

“I’m fine,” she said. She sat down, but kept herself poised on the edge of the seat.

“Of course,” he replied, tamping down on the sarcasm in his voice. “Not many people I know wouldn’t be tired after killing a Duke and running for their lives.”

Emily shot to her feet, her hand falling to her sword again. Daud rolled his eyes, but moved away from the windows to the door. They generally weren’t his first choice of exit, but the empress seemed to think they would be her best shot at getting out quickly. He could feel her eyes on him as he went to the door, opening it a bit more than she had left it open.

“Thomas,” he called, “could you bring up some tea? Make it strong.”

Leaving the door open, he went to the other chair in the room, dragging it so that he could sit across from her. Taking a seat, he crossed his legs, watching her as she debated what to do. Fatigue seemed to win out, and she sat.. Emily fidgeted, small movements that had, at one point, been trained out of her.

“Corvo trusts you,” she said finally, breaking their silence.

The fact surprised him, but he didn’t let it show on his face. “High praise from the bodyguard.”

“I don’t,” she replied.

Daud sat back, a small smirk crossing his lips. The Empress still had some sense, the current day notwithstanding.

“Your father and I were,” Daud paused, looking for the right word. “Acquainted.”

Emily’s face barely twitched, which he credited to years of hiding the truth. The day was wearing on her, however, and the edges of her eyes crinkled in concern. Daud shrugged, rather than continuing the subject. They had their reasons for the secrecy, and he wouldn’t push her to reveal it.

Thomas took that moment to enter the room with a tray. Two cups sat on it, steam rising from both of them. Thomas handed one to Daud, and held out the other to Emily, who took it with some apprehension. Daud watched as she held it loosely in her lap, ready to be thrown at either of them as a distraction.

With a sigh, Daud reached over and took hers, taking a small drink before handing it back. She looked startled, but after nothing happened to him, relaxed and took a drink. She sputtered for a moment, the whiskey that Thomas had put in surprising her. Daud took a drink of his own, which lacked the bite of alcohol. The valerian root, bitter enough that he almost made a face, was still present, but soothed some of the aches that came with his day.

“I don’t make a habit of poisoning guests,” he told her as Thomas moved to stand behind him. His second snorted, drawing Emily’s eyes to him for a moment.

“Lord McMillan,” Thomas said.

“Different circumstances,” Daud replied, not mentioning that said circumstances were sitting across from them.

“Who are you?” Emily asked, her eyes still on Thomas.

“Thomas, Your Majesty,” he said. “I’m Daud’s second-in-command.”

“You’re an assassin as well?”

Daud raised an eyebrow. “Most people are more circumspect when discussing our profession.”

“I remember the man who killed my mother,” she told him. A sliver of ice sunk into his heart at the way her eyes held his. “When Parliament asked if I did after my coronation, I lied because Corvo asked me to. He said that the assassin who killed her felt remorse.”

“A death like that could weigh on a man’s conscience.”

“I imagine,” she said, settling back in her chair a bit more. “I never asked Corvo about it again, you understand. I didn’t ask your name, or why he had let you go after killing her.”

Her voice was hard and biting, at odds with the loose way with which she held herself. For the first time, Daud found himself re-evaluating her. The woman in front of him was not some pampered noble, although she appeared to hold the trappings of one. The callouses on her palms, which no self-respecting noblewoman would have, had obviously come from years of training with swords and other weapons. The way that she scanned the room, small darting movements of her eyes that someone would miss if they weren’t looking for it, meant that someone had taught her to keep an eye on her surroundings. And, if he had to guess, Corvo had most likely built up her immunity to most poisons without telling her.

His respect was not something he gave out lightly, but he had a feeling that she might earn it.

“What do you want from me?” Daud asked. “I can get you on a ship back to Dunwall. Once there, you should be able to apply enough pressure to get your bodyguard released.”

“I’m not leaving him here,” she refused.

Daud nodded, having assumed that would be her response. The Outsider wouldn’t have Marked her if it could have been that simple.

“Staying here could mean your head,” he told her.

“I would like to see Luca try,” she said. “Even he would be hard pressed to come up with a good reason to kill me.”

“There’s one on your hand right now.”

Emily started, her hands tightening as she remembered. “Parliament would brand him a traitor as surely as they have me,” she said. “No matter how heretical I appear to be. No, he gains nothing from killing me.”

“He wants more?” Thomas asked.

“A figurehead,” Daud said, following their line of thought. “Being Duke is one thing, but Emperor...”

“Precisely,” she agreed. “Burrows and Havelock tried to make me into their puppets when I was a child. I will not let Luca succeed where they failed.”

“There’s only one other thing I could offer you,” Daud said.

“I don’t want you to kill him,” Emily told him.

“Aside from that, I don’t know what-”

“Teach me how to do it instead.”

Thomas let out a low whistle. Daud sat up straighter, handing his cup to Thomas. Her eyes, which had remained locked with his, kept their cool demeanor.

“It takes years to become an assassin,” he said.

“Corvo trained me in how to wield a blade,” she replied. “I’m passable with a crossbow, and he made sure that I had an understanding of grenades and their uses. I’m not an incompetent fighter. What I lack are the skills he used fifteen years ago.”

Daud closed his eyes, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It would be simpler to let us-”

“I don’t want someone else to clear my name,” Emily cut him off. “If anything happens to Luca Abele, it will be by my hand alone.”

“You really think you can kill a man in cold blood, Empress?”

Her expression faltered for a moment, her eyes drifting down to the cup in her hands. Then she raised them, conviction evident in them.

“I will do whatever it takes to bring him to justice,” she replied. “If that means his death, so be it.”

“It will change you. Killing,” he clarified

“I know,” was her calm reply.

“We’ll go over the particulars in the morning,” Daud said, standing. “Thomas can take you to the bathroom, if you’d like to clean up, Your Majesty.”

“Emily,” she corrected him. She stood, looking up slightly to meet his eyes.

“Emily,” he agreed. “I’ll find some spare clothes for you to wear. If you’d like, we’ll repair yours.”

She nodded and stood. Daud took the cup from her, noting how her eyes were beginning to droop. The valerian root was working, then. As Thomas led her out of the room, she stopped and turned back to him.

“You have a very nice study,” she said.  

With that last word, she left, her boots clicking on the hardwood of the hallway. Daud walked over to his desk, setting the cup down on the edge. He made a mental note to find her a different pair of shoes. If she was sure that she wanted to go through with this, of which he had little doubt now, then she would receive the best training he could give her.

Flicking the switch next to his desk as he walked over to the window, he plunged the room into almost complete darkness, save for the blue of the whale oil lamp. The reflection that stared back at him, a man with graying hair, looked impassive, as if the way of the world had not been thrown into turmoil again. But past the front he was putting forth, a sense of excitement was stirring in his breast, one he hadn’t felt for over two decades. Daud grinned, a feral smile that had once belonged to the Knife of Dunwall. Reaching over, he turned off the lamp, and left the room.

The face in the window grinned with teeth like knives, before vanishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this took a lot longer than I had expected. Some of that is real life stuff, but most of it was me getting stuck on dialogue and making Daud and Thomas interact well. But it's done! Hopefully Chapter Three will be done quicker, but I'm not making any promises.


End file.
